UPS AND DOWNS

Southland Times, Issue 22487, 23 January 1935, Page 3

UPS AND DOWNS

DUNEDIN TO INVERCARGILL . HIKING AND BIKING. (Written by J.A.T. for the Southland Times.) Some weeks ago I happened to be in Balclutha when, about noon, those stalwarts mounted on racing bicycles and clad in brilliant sweaters and shorts skimmed past to commence a new stage of their long journey from Invercargill to Dunedin. This glimpse of portion of the Cycle Road Race recalled to my mind certain incidents which occurred to me while traversing the same road by the same means. As each rider approached a certain point on the South Road where it bisects the township, of Balclutha, he stretched forth his hand expectantly and received a light calico bag containing oranges and apples peeled and ready for consumption. Upon the handle-bars of each cycle was mounted a pair of gleaming cylinders containing liquid refreshment and provided with rubber tubes to facilitate imbibing. Behind the riders came an Invercargill omnibus ostensibly to pick up the stragglers. Already it was fairly well patronized by the halt and the maimed and perhaps by some who had grown weary of the road for the day was passably hot. r ‘ All these little aids and safeguards caused me to reflect upon the inadequacy of my own preparations when I found it expedient to undertake the journey from Dunedin to Invercargill with no choice of ways and means of travel other that those provided by nature and a bicycle. Unlike' those who undertook the trip for the honour and glory of their sport, I did not cycle by daylight. Nor was it in summertime. In fact it was on a frosty mid-winter’s night whose one saving grace was that the moon shone brightly. Provided with half-a-dozen sandwiches, a clean collar, a change of socks and my shaving gear, all neatly packed in a small attache case, I left Dunedin at five-thirty one Friday evening to spend what part of the week-end I could manage to save, after deducting travelling time, in a township some thirty-two miles bn the other side of Invercargill. My sole stock-in-trade consisted in my sandwiches, a repair outfit arid that brand of courage bom of failure to recognize the full portent of the trials ahead.

The first portion of my journey was comparatively easy going. I pedalled blithely tip hills and thought nothing of Look Out Point and Saddle Hill. I was fresh and Invercargill seemed to be looming nearer every minute. The lights of Mosgiel reminded me that I was some ten miles nearer my goal and that thirteen times the distance I had already traversed would find me within sight of the southern city. That did not seem far at the moment but I wais in optimistic vein and spurred on by a sense of achievement. My journey was indeed in its infancy as I was to realize later. Spirits Sag.

There was no wind and the moon was very helpful. I reached Waihola with my spirits sagging just a very little. The road had become corrugated but I had hopes of an early return to something like the bituminous excellence of the stretch from Dunedin to Henley. I began to whistle to keep up my spirits. The corrugations persisted. I recognized Milbum for the cement works were in operation—overtime. Milton seemed as if it should be just round the comer. A straight, flat stretch of road promised to continue indefinitely. Hie shadow of a suspicion crept into my mind that I was growing slightly tired. I whistled some more—loudly. In the vicinity of some farmhouse, hidden from view, a dog barked. The sound seemed eerie. I ceased whistling, temporarily abashed. Another dog, far ahead took on the strain where his neighbour had left off. I plodded on in silence. Still Milton did not appear. It seemed late and I had no means of judging the flight of time. For the first time Invercargill seemed to be rather a long way off. I dismounted to consider the matter. A sandwich revived my flagging spirits but I craved some means of slaking my thirst. I decided to push on in search of some liquid refreshment. , , Milton came in sight at length and cheered me considerably. It was latenight and as the shoppers still thronged the streets I concluded that the night must still be comparatively young. I succeeded in slaking my thirst and set off on the next stage very nearly as optimistically as I had left Dunedin. Hills confronted me between Milton and Balclutha. I walked tip some of them, feeling not quite so keen on keeping to the saddle as I had been earlier. Strangely enough this section of the journey did not seem particu-larly-long perhaps because I contrived to keep my thoughts on matters unconnected with my rate of progress. Nevertheless I ‘looked forward to reaching Balclutha for no better reason than that it was a centre of civilization. Although I would not have admitted it even to myself at the time I was feeling rather alone and the gregarious instinct was waxing strong within me. Before reaching Balclutha I was passed by the first vehicle I _had encountered thus far. It was a charabanc going to Kaitangata. The thought occurred to me that it would be rather pleasant to be going to Kaitangata instead of Invercargill and that it would be more pleasant still to be aboard that charabanc. However, I continued, feeling just a little more lonely and forlorn when the vehicle disappeared from sight. A fellow-traveller hailed me shortly afterwards. He informed me that he had a car stranded down the road and was in search of petrol. Did I hn°w where he might get some?. I <hd not know of course. I was just a little stranger in a great big foreign country, so to speak. Balclutha came in sight much sooner than I had expected. I felt almost elated as I crossed the traffic bridge and entered the township with something of a flourish in the way of speed. Having purchased some fruit and ascertained that the night was still as young as ten-thirty, I resumed my journey with a renewed supply of enthusiasm.

Heavy Going. I shall not attempt to describe the vicissitudes of the stretch between Balclutha and Clinton. It was soon apparent that I was tiring rapidly—the readiness with which I . dismounted at each suggestion of an upward slope told me so. However I pushed on doggedly. Strangely enough all the hill-slopes seemed to be upward at this stage. Struggling up with the anticipation of a compensating effortless downward flight just over the brow of a rise, I would find to my chagrin that the apparent summit was but a flat terrace with a further rise beyond. At one stage I toyed with the idea of turning right-about and using what remained of my flagging energy in re-

turning to Dunedin. A little reflection sufficed to convince me that it would be a shame to waste all the endeavour already expended. As I continued the conviction grew upon me that I was rapidly making the desirability of a return more remote. It was half-past two when I reached Clinton. Disconsolately I sat upon the wooden steps of the Railway Station and allowed myself to feel drowsy. From an open window of the Hotel across the road came an unbroken series of resounding snores. As these sounds smote my ears I began to think longingly of bed. I began to feel chilled for the first time during my journey. The moon was sinking close to the horizon also. I decided to push on without delay. With a sigh I remounted and struggled on at perhaps half the brave twelve miles an hour I had maintained during the earlier part of the ride. I dared not think of Invercargill at this stage. I tried hard not to long for a lift but failed to quench the hope that rose within me as a pair of bright headlights cast their radiance upon me from behind. Since the moonlight had grown fitful I appreciated the few hundred yards of road thus illuminated for me but I felt the more alone and benighted when the vehicle—a big freighter swept unfeelingly past leaving me to extricate myself as best I could from the loose gravel by the roadside. But salvation was at hand. Within sight of Waipahi I ,came upon the freight-lorry drawn up beside a sister lorry headed in the opposite direction. The second lorry was oyster laden and Dunedin bound. I renounced the temptation to stop and ask assistance. I passed laboriously on my way feeling a little more secure in the knowledge that a sturdy six-wheeler would be passing me again in the near future. That knowledge was still more satisfying when, half a mile further on the big fellow overhauled me and the driver enquired of me my intended destination. His offer of a lift was thankfully accepted.

Gratefully I hoisted my cycle to the running board and clambered aboard. I shall long remember the luxury of that ride. I slept upon the shoulder of my rescuer from Gore to Kennington and woke to find myself approaching Invercargill in broad daylight at 8 a.m. The remaining thirty-two miles seemed a small enough undertaking after the trials and tribulations I had already experienced. I did not mind spending half an hour repatching the front inner tube of my bicycle from which every patch had been loosened by the heat of the lorry-engine. I was quite at peace with the world for the time being. The last thirty-two miles cost me eight hours. In the first place I was not feeling particularly energetic. Secondly, a head-wind of strong intensity sapped my ebbing vigour and kept me for the most part on foot. Fairly early I had an unpatchable blow-out to add to my troubles. I would probably have made better progress unhampered by my all-but-useless bicycle. To make matters worse I took a road leading the longer way round and across hill country whereas a comparatively flat stretch was available had I keen fortunate enough to have chosen the right way. . I reached my destination at 4 p.m., twenty-two and a half hours after leaving honie. A few minutes behind me came the omnibus which connected with the train departing, from Dunedin on Saturday morning. I could have travelled on that train but I thought I might have longer time down south by ■ leaving on Friday. I did too-between ten and fifteen minutes longer! But 1 spent the remainder of my week-end in bed making up for my loss of rest and ’ recuperating my over-taxed strengtn.